


Dragon Age Dialogue Challenge

by solona



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dialogue Challenge, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompts Accepted, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: theredhawke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:53:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solona/pseuds/solona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A self-inflicted challenge in which lines of dialogue between characters (or we can get some internal monologue going on, I'm none too picky) are submitted to @theredhawke on tumblr and made into fics. </p><p>Send me a line or two of Dialogue between characters and (optional) a preferred pairing, character, setting, or scenario and I will make it happen! (However, I reserve the right to decline prompts if they make me uncomfortable!) They can range anywhere from complete fluff, plot-based, smut, and everything in between. The only requirement is dialogue. (Regular prompts are also accepted, they just won't be included in this work.) This can be as specific or open-ended as you like. Opened to ALL dragon age games, characters, pairings, ect. My lovely muses will all be credited! Fics will be posted on tumblr and AO3. Each fic will have its own set of warnings (spoilers included), so have no fear.<br/>....</p><p>Submissions opened for the rest of eternity, so prompt away.</p><p>Anonymous submission is always available!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing of Relevance

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by Anonymous:  
>  _I know you love Josie so lets get some of her and a sassy female Trevelyan!_  
>  _Josephine/F!Trevelyan_  
>  _"What are you reading?"_  
>  _"Nothing of relevence, Inquisitor."_  
>  _"I'll be the judge of that!"_  
>  No warnings/spoilers.

"What are you reading?" 

"Nothing of relevance, Inquisitor," the Antivan diplomat creased her page, folding it carefully as not to mar the words.

But the Lady Trevelyan was a sly thing indeed, and rarely ever took such simple answers. Before Josephine could offer a word of protest, the novel was plucked away. "I'll be the judge of that!" Trevelyan grinned in that ridiculous way of hers. She took a moment then, thumbing the dog-eared page with deft hands before snapping the binding shut to read the title. The inquisitor's lips curled in a savage grin. " _Hard in Hightown_?" Maker, she could feel the heat radiating off the scribe's checks, feeding her mirth all the more. "Oh, does the dwarf know you’re a fan of his? Get him to sign the copy, did you?" 

"I fail to see how this pertains to the inquisition's movement or my skill set as your chief ambassador." 

"Your skill set, hmm?" A brow arched and the burn beneath advisor’s skin spread to the collar of her frock.  

Trevelyan let her arms drop to her hips before crossing them, cocking her head against the crackling light of the hearth. "By the Maker, don't I feel uncultured. Perhaps you might introduce me to some quality literature then?" 

She stood, "Inquisitor-" 

"How will I act as the herald of Andraste if I don’t even know my classics?" She threw out her arms in melodrama and pressed a hand to her forehead, eyelids fluttering to complete the lavish display. "This must be remedied. Dear lady, say you'll help me?" The woman bent, taking Lady Montilyet's hand between her own. 

She laughed then; breaking the tension Josephine hadn’t noticed build. And it was not long before the ambassador found herself following suit, reclaiming the novel in the process. Somewhere between the inquisitor's gasping cackle and the lady’s own gentler cheer, there was a shift of some kind. Something foreign, in a way, alien to them both. The tapered end of her laugh caught in her throat, then, silenced by the manifestation of such a thing.

It was a kiss: sudden, hot, and stunning against her mouth. It burned sharp and bright for an instant before Trevelyan pulled away, face warmed in the candlelight. _Shame_ , Josephine read it in her face as only a woman of her skill set could. Shame, but not regret. _Such an impulsive woman_ , she marveled, _to doubt herself in such a manner._  

"Perhaps I _could_  help expand the library.” The scribe’s voice cut clear through the silence, breathless and teasing, as it drew Trevelyan’s eyes back to her own. Josephine took a moment, smoothing her skirts before sitting herself back down between the open arms of her chair. A sleeved arm gestured to the shelves around them. Perhaps once, some time ago, such a room had held books. In some distant past, she was certain, the walls had been decorated with volumes, tomes and novels of every sort that reached the low beams of the ceiling; with histories and ballads incased in warm leathery jewel tones to fill the halls of the Keep. But now, in all its past destitution, the library had not but a handful of manuscripts and the occasional history to earn such a title. “It is rather…” 

“Dreadfully dull? Pitiful? Outright sad?” The other woman chuckled under her breath, “Maker, dare I imagine how positively insipid these volumes must be. Look at me, bored half-way to sleep just _imagining_ what it would be like to imagine such a thing!”

 “… _Limited_ , I might say.”

 "And what does that have to do with advancing the inquisition, hmm?" Her hair had come loose, somehow, the curve of her spine relaxed, Josephine noted. As a woman in her line of work, observation was key, such as it always was. 

With a tilt of her head, the ambassador returned the warmth of the other woman’s smile in like, "As I have said, nothing of relevance." 

The grin took on another shade entirely then, something colored the red of wine in its murk confidence. "I'll be the judge of that." And Josephine forgot the book entirely as it slid from her lap.  


	2. A Foreign Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt submitted by @forthegraywardens (on tumblr):  
> Sten eavesdropping on the townsfolk. Come on, you know it happened.  
>  _"Yes, a foreign land. Of that there was little doubt."_
> 
> No warnings, minor Origins spoilers.

This land, Ferelden, is as foreign a place the Sten has ever known. Yes, he is certain of that.

It is a land untempered, a lump of raw ore unsmelted. A shameful, pitiful waste of resource. Here again, he sees from the bars of his tomb, the streets: where children squabble like fat, over-plumped hens, content to ripen past rot in their pins. And the priestess that put him here, _mercy_ , she had claimed; _damnation_ , he had known.

This was no swifts brush of a blade, no end in a field of blood and steel. This was the slow rot of their Chantry’s _mercy_ imposed upon him. They had left him to waste. The Qun held no such cruelties. There, nothing was made useless, nothing left in the shame of dust and decay: only purpose. The land may have taken his liberty, his rights, his _Asala_ , but not this. Not his purpose. It would not be allowed.

The warden, Sten finds, is as out of places as he is in this land, and yet content in the chaos. And that he could come to call such a _bas_  a  _kadan_? A foolish, trivial jest, one Sten would have cast aside like all the others that the  _bas_  he traveled beside seemed so intent on making. As if such words might lessen the nature of their impending task. Such fools he found himself aligned with; strangers and strange man alike with every reason to desert, owing no true fealty to their Warden leader. Yet they remained.

Yet he remained.

Yes, a foreign land. Of that there was little doubt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my painfully, shamefully short Sten piece for @forthegraywardens! I love the prompt in every way, it was just so Sten-like, if that makes any sense. (I was so tempted to just make this a game of eye-spy.) I know its short and not exactly what you asked for, but I hope you aren't too disappointed?


End file.
